


Split City: Our Lady of Ash Wednesday

by hazedolores



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29172780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazedolores/pseuds/hazedolores
Summary: The canonization of Clarice Starling & all she stands to gain from it.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter & Clarice Starling, Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling
Kudos: 5





	Split City: Our Lady of Ash Wednesday

Slits. Indents.  
Jagged edges of my violence.  
Downy gate:  
Can you taste the tenderness I tremble to make?

Let us then rejoice.

Head bowed to an altar where a cross awaits  
—demeaning in its empty glory.  
Fire that led my trail here  
now singes my lungs, I am forced to purge—  
coughing up smoke and blood.

My warehouse is in mourning.  
A candlelit vigil—my warehouse in atonement.

Let us then rejoice.

My rage is raw from groveling at this altar.  
I am too long my own sister, too long my own father.  
Having to construct a roof because I care.  
Only to watch it erode  
By this man’s ego and that man’s scope.  
Mary Magdalene’s tears burning at my throat.

I took my name in vain.

I took my name in vain.

Because no matter how much I care I can never care enough.  
Because I could never sit still in the face of destruction.  
Because I flayed pounds of my flesh trying to halt a rupture.  
Because for all my “bless-ed be’s” I only garnered a metal slab.  
Because I was stubborn and equated my worth with rainwater,  
Here to grow fruit on drought desert land.  
Because for all my castrated triumphs, all my heart aches,  
I can no longer live with the void my collapsed roof left in its wake.

Consequently, I rejoice.

Because I do not hope that time will turn again,  
I clasp at my answer like a bouquet of flowers:  
No delusions of grandeur, and no illusions of power.  
I have the courage to look at time in the face,  
Make amends with the earned worthiness of my place.  
I know that both serve my station, my desire to create.

Let us then rejoice.

A single bright object  
Here to reign over a ribcage,  
Once devoid of any heat or light.  
A mallet rings hallow but I am no prophet,  
No second coming of Christ.

Saint Lazarus ordains this mass and  
upon communion uncovers his platter.  
Your eucharist—porcelain prayers shattered.

Let us then rejoice.

So, should it matter?  
That my tears were once used as cattle?  
Or that you were a mink hiding in leaf’s shadow?  
That I was made from your rib?  
Or that you found nourishment in my gallows?  
If at the end, our waltz led us to opposite halves of the same arch.

Let us then rejoice.

Give your best to the Lord!  
So, we fill our boxes with aubergines and orange zest.  
Twin inhales of incense,  
Out through mouths no longer  
Gorged on body or blood.

Prickly pears, fruit of figs,  
Grapes and raspberries—nectar thick.  
For what the Lord has brought together let no man take from me.  
Hail to the Lady of Ash Wednesday!

I cross myself in the name of Fidelity,  
in the name of Bravery, and in the name of Integrity.  
With the serenity of understanding that this question was always there:  
“Is this what it’s like to wear a veil?”

**Author's Note:**

> In true Clarice fashion, I've altered lines from T.S Eliot's Ash Wednesday & The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock to suit this poem. Thanks so much to all the little fruits that keep me on my toes & inspire me daily. As always, constructive feedback is avidly encouraged :) Hope you all liked it!


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